


You Had Your Soul With You

by pretendingday



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Beast (The Magicians), Brakebills (The Magicians), Character Study, Infidelity, Margo is trying her best, Matchmaking, Minor Penny/Alice, Misunderstandings, Multi, Mutual Pining, Non-Explicit Sex, References to Depression, Shenanigans of Farcical Nature, everyone is bad at feelings, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:10:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26000131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretendingday/pseuds/pretendingday
Summary: Margo was a skilled magician. She liked to pretend that her and Eliot’s lavish lifestyles were earned through sheer genius. Less time studying meant more time practicing hedonistic debauchery. But for all her skill she still couldn’t have predicted just how involved she would be in Quentin fucking up his relationship – emphasis on the fucking.A Season 1 AU where tragedy never strikes, but people still manage to make the same mistakes. Luckily, Margo is determined to make things right. Too bad she can't see what's right in front of her.
Relationships: Margo Hanson & Eliot Waugh, Margo Hanson/Alice Quinn, Quentin Coldwater & Margo Hanson, Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh, William "Penny" Adiyodi & Margo Hanson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22





	You Had Your Soul With You

**Author's Note:**

> yikes, this fic was meant to be a 1k character study of margo, but then it ran in so many directions i could barely keep up, myself. hopefully it still makes sense. 
> 
> i've never written for this fandom before, but i finished s4 a while ago and needed some self-indulgent fluff. this isn't really that anymore, but rather just an adventure in me trying to get the character voices right. i hope it makes someone laugh. all of these characters are emotional wrecks, but i promise they'll all get their happy endings, this time. :')
> 
> the title is a song by the national, bc of course it is...

The glint in Eliot’s eye as he entered the room was unmistakably familiar. Margo rolled her eyes, putting down the magazine she’d been perusing. She made a show of slowly placing it on the coffee table, as if she was making him a favor by even acknowledging his return. 

”So?” She sat back, checking her nails in faux nonchalance. 

”They gave me this boy, Quentin. Confused as all hell, the poor thing, I half expected him to faint on the spot.” Eliot draped himself casually onto the couch next to Margo, a cheeky smile accompanying the aforementioned glint in his eye.

”Is he cute?” Margo didn’t really have to ask, but she couldn’t help humoring her best friend. 

” _So_ cute.” Eliot leaned his head back, as if imagining the face of this boy, this _Quentin_. Margo tried to imagine what he might look like, but decided the use of brain capacity was beneath her.

Instead she pushed a few stray hairs off Eliot’s forehead, her fingers staying to tangle in his dark mane. 

”Oh, Eliot.” She sighed, putting on the role of doting mother, ”Try not to break his heart too quickly.”

”Aren’t you supposed to care about _my_ heart?” Eliot quirked an eyebrow at her, but leaned into her touch.

”You’re a big boy.” Margo smirked, ”And, in case you forgot, you recently laughed me in the face during a time of emotional peril, you cock.” 

”You broke a nail.”

” _Peril_ , I say.” Margo sighed dramatically. ”Now, get mama a drink, and then take me to your new boy toy. I need to see what all the fuss is about.” 

Quentin Coldwater was not _that_ cute. He wasn’t not cute either, Margo supposed. He held himself the way most first-years tended to – a healthy mix of uncertainty and curiosity. Something about him was different, though. His big-eyed wonder and the way his hair kept falling into his eyes was quite endearing, although Margo loathed to admit it. God knew Eliot didn’t need the encouragement.

It had happened before of course. Margo knew the drill by now; a pretty boy shows up, Eliot fawns over him, seduces him, and by that point a new one would come along. It was all part of the routine. Margo had had her fair share of flings herself, although she prided herself with not ever being caught _fawning_. 

The point was that it wasn’t necessarily concerning to find Eliot throwing longing glances across the room at cottage parties. He would get over it. Perhaps sooner rather than later, considering the way Quentin Coldwater threw his own glances elsewhere. Margo was pretty sure he would be too much of a chickenshit to get things going with Alice before Eliot had the chance to strike, but she wasn’t above throwing a few wrenches his way. 

One particular evening, when she spotted Alice nervously looking around the cottage for what seemed to be her only friend, Margo swooped in behind her with the sweetest grin she could muster. 

”Hey, Kitty-cat.” She put a hand on Alice’s shoulder and got a surprised yelp in return. 

”Oh,” Alice sighed, and Margo could almost see the way her carefully constructed walls rebuilt around her. The girl was like a fortress, and not even Margo’s charm could seem to rock her. ”Have you seen Quentin?”

Margo _had_ seen Quentin. Quentin was in the kitchen, watching as Eliot made him some overly complicated version of toast. This was the entire reason Margo was even talking to Alice in the first place.

”Oh, you don’t wanna hang around that sadsack, darling.” Margo shook her head, and lead Alice towards the bar, ”How about I make you a drink?”

”I’m not much of a drinker.” Alice huffed, annoyance evident in her voice. Margo wasn’t used to people being this openly hostile towards her. However, she was an impeccable hostess, and her smile never wavered as she poured two glasses of wine.

”Nonsense,” She tutted, handing one to Alice, who accepted it with a grimace, ”Now tell me, what’s put that sour look on your face, Ms Quinn?” 

”I’m-” Alice frowned, her eyes drifting around the room, ”I should go find Quentin.”

”I’m sure he’ll come out whenever he’s ready, sweetheart.” Margo threw a glance towards the kitchen, and speak of the devil there was Quentin, with Eliot’s arm thrown across his shoulder. Margo had to improvise. With two quick steps she was close enough to cup Alice’s face in her perfectly manicured hand. Alice froze.

”You know, I have a dress that would _really_ make those pretty eyes of yours pop. Wanna try it on?” Margo smirked, and Alice’s eyes went so wide she thought they just might pop in a more literal sense. 

”Uh, I’m- I-” 

”Follow me.” Margo grabbed the one of Alice’s hands not desperately gripping her wine glass, and pulled her towards the stairs. On her way up she caught Eliot’s eye. He was sat in the reading nook, hand tangled in a blushing Quentin’s hair as they shared a bottle of something strong. Margo gave him a nod and a knowing smile. She truly was the best friend imaginable. Besides, if Alice spent all of her time with Quentin she would end up pathetically boring, and Margo was way too good a person to let that happen. 

The dress was a light blue velvet that wrapped around the waist, and it made more than Alice’s eyes pop. Margo was almost offended that a girl with tits like that kept them hidden under conservative Peter Pan collars at all times. She let her eyes wander up to see Alice’s face, flushed a deep pink. 

”I can’t-” She began, only to clear her throat and start over, ”This is terrible.”

”I’m _sorry_?” Margo almost laughed, ”I’m going to ignore your blatant disrespect for my credentials as a stylist, but this dress is literally _made_ for you, darling. Fits like a glove. I bet my weight in tequila you’ve never looked better. Quentin would cum in his fucking pants.” 

Alice coughed, hiding her face in her hands. She looked mortified. Margo shrugged.

”Hey, if it’s not your thing, I get it. But if this is about some irrational lack of confidence, I want you to take my word for it – you’re sexy as fuck, Alice Quinn.” 

”I’m- Thank you?” Alice refused to look up, as she spoke, ”It’s just, I mean- Why are you doing this?” 

Margo almost felt bad that the truth was anything but charitable. They wouldn’t even be here if she wasn’t such a good wingwoman. However, she couldn’t deny that Alice intrigued her. Perhaps it was the hostility. The more Alice pushed her away, the more she wanted to figure her out. It felt like a challenge. 

”Perhaps I see potential in you, young Padawan.” She said, taking a swig of tequila from the bottle she kept on her vanity. 

”What?” Alice frowned. 

”Oh, _come on_ , you haven’t even seen _Star Wars_?” 

In the end, Alice refused to be seen in the amazingly flattering dress, and Margo was made to wait outside as she changed back into her pilgrim tent. She had barely closed the door behind her when Quentin came stumbling up the stairs, looking about ready to pass out on his feet.

”Hey,” He slurred, and Margo wondered just how many drinks Eliot had made him. The man could get a little overeager in his mixology. ”Have you seen Alice?”

Margo sighed. Perhaps Quentin Coldwater was a lost cause, already. Eliot would mope about it, sure, but it wasn’t that big a deal. Margo had already bought an expensive bottle of wine in case he needed consolation. Eliot would get over Quentin, and it would all be fine. It wasn’t that deep.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later that Margo finally admitted something was off. At that point Quentin Coldwater had become something akin to a friend. This placed him, in Margo’s book, in the probably-not-wise-to-sleep-with category. She had assumed Eliot had done the same. In fact, when she (not for the first time) found herself at a party, cradling Eliot’s head on her lap while he watched Quentin and Alice on the couch, she made a face of distaste and said;

”Seriously, El? _Q_?”

”It’s fine.” Eliot had slurred, probably a bit more drunk than he realised, ”I don’t care.” 

Margo raised her eyebrows. She knew Eliot, well enough to know that when he brushed things off this readily he was well and truly _fucked_. 

”Jesus…” She rolled her eyes, looking across the room in time to see Quentin take Alice’s hand. Seconds later they were kissing. Eliot shifted on Margo’s lap.

”Maybe I should go talk to him…” He tried to sit up, ”Maybe there’s an emergency… somewhere.”

Margo held him down, gently but firmly. She didn’t know what to say. These were uncharted grounds, and she needed to tread carefully. Never since they met had Margo ever known Eliot to catch _feelings_. 

”You’ll do no such thing.” She said, voice stern. Eliot sighed, and pressed his face into her thigh. ”I swear to _God_ , El, if you get makeup on my dress.”

”You have so many dresses, Bambi.” 

”Catch me burning one of your vests, then we’ll see how you feel, loverboy.”

”Point taken.” Eliot turned his head again, facing Margo with a grin. Margo couldn’t help the laughter that escaped her. The whole concept was bizarre. For all Eliot Waugh claimed not to care about things, Margo had always known better. Of course he cared, but only about things that _mattered_. It was just bad luck that one of those things happened to be Quentin _fucking_ Coldwater. 

If only Margo had had any experience in supporting a lovesick fool. 

”Don’t you worry,” She said, when noticing Eliot’s eyes drifting to the couch that was no longer occupied by the two flirting freshmen, ”I give them a month before Q fucks up, Alice snaps, and there’s a brokenhearted Coldwater crawling at your feet.” 

Margo was a skilled magician. She liked to pretend that her and Eliot’s lavish lifestyles were earned through sheer genius. Less time studying meant more time practicing hedonistic debauchery. Truth be told Margo wasn’t sure she’d act much differently if her grades were shit. If there was one thing life had taught her it was to ask for forgiveness rather than permission – preferably neither. But for all her skill she still couldn’t have predicted just how involved she would be in Quentin fucking up his relationship – emphasis on the fucking. 

When she woke up, tangled in sheets and limbs, her brain had provided vague memories of Quentin on his knees, Quentin between her legs, Quentin sucking- 

” _Fuck_.” She pressed a hand to her forehead to calm the pounding, and reached out to the body next to her. It was Eliot. When she looked up she found his eyes already open to meet her. As she opened her mouth to speak, however, a finger was placed on her lips. 

Eliot hushed softly, and then nodded his head towards the door. There were voices coming from down the corridor, hushed but vicious. Margo had just noticed how Quentin wasn’t in the room with them when they grew louder.

” _No!_ ” A voice that was unmistakably Alice exclaimed, ”You don’t get to say that to me, you don’t-”

”It’s happening.” Margo said, slowly. Eliot pressed his lips together and nodded. 

”I think I feel… bad.” He whispered, as they heard Quentin’s voice try to reason with his furious (ex?) girlfriend. Margo was just about to think of something clever to say, when Quentin yelled;

” _It didn’t mean anything!_ ”

Now, Margo couldn’t give a rat’s ass about what her dalliances _meant_ to the other party. That wasn’t her priority. What _was_ her priority, however, was the mental wellbeing of her best friend.

If Eliot had looked concerned before the look in his eyes as Quentin’s voice echoed through the cottage could be best described as miserable. 

Margo bit her lip and swallowed the string of profanity on her tongue. 

Despite everything Eliot was still Eliot. And Eliot’s business was shoving his feelings so far up his own ass no one would ever know they existed in the first place. No one except Margo. But apparently being best friends didn’t mean they could actually talk about things like adults. 

”I’m fine, Bambi.” Eliot waved his hand dismissively before taking a long drink out of the glass in his hand – some new concoction he’d invented, just for the occasion. The occasion being moping on the couch, while simultaneously pretending nothing was amiss.

”Bullshit, El.” Margo sat down next to him with a huff, ”Beating yourself up about this whole… Q business, isn’t doing shit for anyone. Let’s do something to get your mind off it all. Let’s go to London. We’ll get you a sexy European rebound, and by the time we’re back this will all be forgotten.” 

Eliot let his head fall back with a groan. _Shit_ , maybe this was worse than Margo had originally thought.

”I need…” Eliot downed the rest of his drink, and then stumbled off the couch. He never finished the sentence, but Margo had a feeling if nothing was done about this whole shit show soon her best friend would start self-medicating. Margo was not about to let that happen.

”Look, Q, it’s not the end of the world.” Margo slammed her hand into the wall, blocking Quentin’s escape route. She had gone to the kitchen for a late night something, and found the boy making himself some tea by the sink. He was holding on to the cup as if his life depended on it now, refusing to meet Margo’s eyes. 

”Just let me go.” He said.

” _No_.” Margo replied, and when Quentin had the gall to roll his eyes she continued, ”Look, as far as I’m concerned you should be thanking me, but since that’s not happening let me say this; I get that you’re emo about Alice, but this pity party has gone on long enough. Don’t you think the silent treatment is a bit _much_?”

”I’m not-”

”Oh, come _on_ , Q. Don’t pretend you haven’t been avoiding me. Avoiding _Eliot_.”

Quentin sighed, putting his teacup down on the counter forcefully. Some of the hot liquid splashed onto his hand, and he flinched.

”Margo, I don’t… hate you, or anything. It’s just… it’s hard.” Quentin looked like a kicked puppy. Scratch that, he looked like Cancer Puppy at the vet, miserable with a capital M.

”Well,” Margo tried her best to sound understanding, ”Have you considered telling Eliot that? The part about you not hating his guts? Or does that only cover me, specifically?” 

Quentin frowned for a moment, as if contemplating something. Then, he picked up his tea and walked briskly past Margo before she had time to stop him.

”It’s not like El cares what I think. I’m just another conquest.” He said before disappearing up the stairs. Something in his tone made Margo suspect Quentin wasn’t just concerned about his ex.

She groaned in frustration. These stupid motherfuckers would be the death of her. 

”Now, here’s the deal,” Margo put on her most intimidating glare, ”I need an ally.”

”Um…” Penny frowned, ”Ok, I’m confused. We don’t exactly… talk?” 

They were on the lawn outside the main building. Penny had been sat there… meditating, or whatever travelers did in their spare time, when Margo walked up to him with determination.

”Yes, well a little birdie tells me you’ve been fucking Alice Quinn.” Margo crossed her arms, and Penny looked even more lost.

”I- wha- who told you?” 

”Doesn’t matter. What matters is whether or not Alice wants to get back with Quentin.” 

”Fuck no.” Penny almost laughed. ”She hates his guts. Apparently he cheated on her with some second years.” 

”I know,” Margo rolled her eyes, ”I was there.” She felt very pleased with the way Penny’s face dropped in shock. 

”Wait, if you-” he frowned again, seemingly trying to make sense of it all, ”Why would I help you? And with what, exactly?” 

”It seems you and I both have horses in this race. You want Alice to keep at whatever thing you’ve got going, and I want my life to go back to the beautiful mess it was before it got taken over by heartbroken emos. The cottage is like a sad fucking indie film. When I walked down the stairs yesterday someone was playing The National.”

”Ouch.” Penny seemed to think for a moment, then he nodded, ”So, what’s the plan?” 

The plan was very much still in the cradle. Margo loathed to admit it, but for once she was struggling to scheme, self-appointed mastermind status be damned. This was different from the usual plans she would plot together, on more than one level. First and foremost she didn’t have Eliot as her right hand man, but rather Penny, and although she didn’t doubt his competence in some areas their compatibility just wasn’t the same. Secondly the plan concerned people very close to Margo’s heart, and she couldn’t risk anyone getting hurt unnecessarily in the process – unnecessarily being the key word. They were all adults, and she was sure her boys could handle it a little rough, if the cause demanded it. 

Any deception was out the window. Eliot had enough trust issues, and Margo suspected Quentin was of a similar mind, considering his snide remarks in the kitchen. No outright lies, but perhaps some subtle truth-bending. 

Furthermore she couldn’t involve more people than she already had. Trusting Penny had made sense, since he had stakes of his own, but any other outsiders and things could get messy. Margo was keen to protect Eliot’s reputation, as well as her own. Gossip travelled fast, and there was no need for the rest of Brakebills to know either of them had _feelings_. 

”I’m struggling to see what exactly you want me to do?” Penny scratched his temple. They were in the library, using the bullshit excuse of a study group to meet up. Except the study group was just the two of them, and they were studying ways to make Margo’s life less miserable. 

”I want you to keep Alice out of the cottage,” Margo said, ”As much as possible. I’m sure it would do her some good to avoid the depressive energy, anyway.” 

Penny nodded. Margo tapped her pen on the table.

”I need your cell number.” 

”Uh, I thought there wasn’t any reception here-” Penny began, hesitantly.

”Oh, please.” Margo rolled her eyes, ”Me and El came up with a spell to bypass that shit first year.”

Penny tentatively accepted her phone as it was slid across the table. His thumbs tapped at the screen as he asked;

”So… what’s the deal with you and Eliot, anyway?”

”Deal?” Margo raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. 

”Like you’re basically inseparable, right? Is that strictly platonic, or…”

”Honey, are you looking for the Quentin treatment? Because I thought you had your own thing going, and although I might already have my own special place in hell I don’t particularly want to torture Alice-”

” _No!_ ” Penny looked flustered as all hell, as he furiously shook his head, ”Just curious, is all. I guess it really isn’t any of my business.” 

”It isn’t.” Margo shrugged, ”But since we’re officially business partners, I’ll tell you this: Eliot is my best friend, and I would cut a bitch so fast if they ever hurt him. Sadly the person who hurt him this time is the one person Eliot doesn’t want to see hurt, and so cutting that particular bitch would be rather counterproductive.”

Penny smiled.

”Did you just call Coldwater a bitch?” His eyes glittered with amusement.

”I don’t usually condone the use of bitch as a derogatory term, but yes.” Margo nodded, ”And we are going to get that bitch the happy ending his cute little ass deserves.” 

”He’s not that cute.” Penny mused. Margo thought she might grow to like him. 

Now, despite whatever Eliot may argue, communication was the key to everything. Talking was the only way out of this mess, and although she dreaded the thought Margo had to make Quentin and Eliot do just that. 

The first obstacle was that talking required the two of them to be in the same room. Quentin had taken to spending most of his spare time locked in his room, probably rereading _Fillory and Further_ for the fiftieth time. Eliot was either sprawled on the couch or on the floor, like a slightly less hairy version of a bear skin rug. When Margo decided to try her hands at bargaining with him it was a floor day. Penny was keeping an eye on Alice – last she’d heard she was in the library, actually studying rather than scheming. The cottage was unusually empty. Time to strike.

”Hey, stud.” She used the soft voice reserved only for Eliot, and the occasional drunk girl in a club bathroom, ”Are you gonna get up and talk to me, or am I gonna have to womanhandle you?”

”Not sure that’s a thing, Bambi.” The reply was probably less snarky than intended, and came off as hoarse and frankly _pathetic_. Margo sighed. However strong she may be, seeing Eliot like this _hurt_. 

”It is now, sweetheart.” She squatted down next to him, ”Listen, El. You’ve had your week of mourning, now will you please let me help you?” 

”Unless you’re suddenly developed an affinity for time magic, I’m not sure there’s much you can do.” Eliot grumbled, but he did turn his face towards her. The rug had pressed a rosy pattern onto his cheek. 

”I can make sure you take a shower.” Margo reached our and pushed her fingers through the mess of his hair, ”And if you’re a good boy I’ll let you borrow my perfume.”

”Mm, the peachy one.” Eliot closed his eyed and hummed.

”The peachy one.” Margo confirmed. 

Dealing with Eliot had the distinct advantage that Margo and Eliot were basically soulmates. They could read each other like Margo read books. (Eliot was excused from the analogy on account of his self-proclaimed illiteracy – Margo suspected dyslexia.) Quentin was a different story. While Margo had gotten along with the guy fine, up until _the incident_ , she was less than sure what manner of persuasion would work best to get him out of what was starting to look rather alarmingly like spiraling depression. The last time Margo had seen Q getting some cereal in the kitchen he looked _rough_. She had tried talking to him, using her regular brand of abrasiveness, and gotten nowhere. 

”You can’t stay in your room forever, Q.” She had said, and gotten nothing but a shrug in reply, ”If Alice is already over it and out there with someone else, why should you keep beating yourself up about it?” 

She wanted to tell him that seeing him like this was hard for everyone, especially Eliot, but something told her Quentin’s brand of self-deprecation would only turn those words into more anxiety fodder. She wanted to tell him they missed him, but she couldn’t bare being that sentimental. The additional fact that Quentin didn’t seem interested in listening to anything she had to say anyway made Margo’s head pound. 

At the sound of the shower in Eliot’s en-suite sprinkling to life she made a beeline for Quentin’s door. Once faced with the blank slab of wood, however, she hesitated. What if pushing Quentin only made matters worse? 

_Fuck_. This wasn’t Margo Hanson. Margo Hanson didn’t hesitate – she picked a course and she ran with it, come hell or high water. The fact that talking to Quentin right now was difficult shouldn’t stop her. She was capable of doing difficult things. And besides, what kind of friend would she be if she ignored the warning signs and left Quentin to his own devices. Quentin was her friend, one of her best friends, she realized perhaps for the first time.

She knocked twice. 

After waiting for a full minute without a response, she tried again.

”I’m naked.” came a weak voice through the door, and Margo sighed. 

”Are you saying that to make me go away? Because if not you have exactly twenty seconds to get decent before I magically break down your door.”

After roughly fifteen seconds Margo let herself in, closing the door behind her. Quentin was, as expected, fully dressed and lying on his back on the bed. His eyes didn’t leave the ceiling as Margo crossed the room to open the window. Fresh air flowed inside, and Margo took a second to breathe. Then she turned and sat down on the edge of the bed. 

”Q.” She said, softly, ”You need to get up.” 

”Why?” Quentin replied, voice thick with disuse. Margo sighed. Part of her wanted to be her usual harsh self, forcefully dragging him out of bed and making him function, but this was Quentin. Quentin who took every harsh word to heart, and seemed to internalize it into the puzzle that was his crippling self-hatred. He didn’t need more fuel for that particular fire. 

”Because if one mistake gets to dictate your entire life, then mine would have been over years ago. Did I ever tell you about that time I robbed a bank?” Quentin frowned, but Margo pressed on, ”I’m your friend, Q, and friends don’t let friends slip away like this.” 

”Margo-” 

”Talk to him, Q. _Please_.”

** Sunday 15:36 **

** Margo **

distract alice x

** Penny **

will do

** Margo **

good boy xx

When Margo walked down the stairs she found Eliot in the kitchen. His hair was still wet, glistening in the afternoon sunlight, and he wore the shirt Margo had kindly put out on his bed for him – it was a deep green silk, and she knew it was a favorite. She also knew a shower and a fresh set of clothes wouldn’t fix things – she didn’t fail to notice the flask in his pocket – but it was a start. 

”Hey,” Eliot kissed her forehead as she hugged him, smelling her own perfume on him. 

”Hey, Bitch.” 

They stood there for a while, until the sound of footsteps on the stairs caused Margo to turn expectantly. 

Margo thanked whatever Gods were out there as Quentin Coldwater himself came through the doorway. He looked almost sheepish, pushing his long hair out of his face. The hand Margo still held to Eliot’s back felt every muscle in his body tense. 

”Q.” He said, and Quentin managed what could almost be considered a smile. 

”El.”

”I’ll give you two some privacy.” Margo said, standing on her tiptoes to kiss Eliot’s cheek before she left. 

** Sunday 15:45 **

** Penny **

how’s it going?

** Margo **

idk left the boys to talk it out

** Penny **

u can’t convince me ur not eavesdropping rn

** Margo **

if i was i wouldn’t tell u x

It wasn’t Margo’s fault that the walls in the cottage were so thin. She had perfected the sound-proofing spell on her own room ages ago – no one needed to know what went on behind closed doors – but sitting on the couch in the lounge she could hear perfectly well what was being said in the kitchen. It wasn’t like Eliot wouldn’t tell her every word later, if she only asked. This would save them all some time. 

It was perfectly predictable at first. Some apologies were exchanged, for lack of communicating and misplaced blame and all that. Then some bickering, to take the edge off. (”Admit it, it’s the best dick you’ve ever had.” ”Fuck you, El.”) And then, Margo prepared for the finale – a heartfelt confession of feelings that left both of her stupid best friends weeping like the saps they were.

Except, that’s not what Margo heard.

”So… what now?” Quentin said, and Margo could almost see him playing with his hair nervously.

”We go back to normal.” Eliot replied, and Margo froze.

”Oh.” Q sounded small, but not necessarily surprised, ”Okay.”

”Let’s just pretend none of it happened, alright, Q?” Eliot sounded like his usual carefree self. Margo knew it was all a ruse. Her blood was boiling. 

”Uh, yeah.” Quentin sounded surer now, ”Nothing happened. We’re fine. Back to normal. Friends?”

”Friends.” Eliot confirmed with a laugh, and Margo sank down further into the couch. Why was she best friends with two absolute motherfucking idiots. 

Her phone buzzed with an incoming text.

** Penny **

heads up alice on her way

_Fuck_. _Fuck, fuck, fuck_. Margo got to her feet, just as Eliot came out of the kitchen only to walk straight to the bar.

”That’s enough emotions for today.” He said, breezily. 

”El-” Margo began, but Quentin had followed him, and she quickly shut her mouth. She gave Eliot a stern look. _We’re not done_. Eliot shook his head and grabbed the gin.

”Margo.” Quentin said, and the smile he gave her was almost genuine. The hug she got was even more so – it was the kind of Quentin hug she had missed, without even realizing it. 

”Don’t go bottling shit up on me again, Q.” She said, ”It does no one any good.” She added, throwing another glare in Eliot’s direction.

Eliot raised his glass in a toast.

”To no longer bottling shit up.” He proclaimed. 

That was the moment Alice Quinn chose to walk in the door. 

Quentin saw her first, over Margo’s shoulder, but the second she felt him tense up she knew. 

”A- Alice.” He stuttered, sounding just as small as he had in the kitchen. Margo was just about tell Alice to read the room and get lost when said offender spoke.

”Margo.” She said, ”A word? In private?” 

Margo closed the door to her room behind her.

”There, privacy.” She looked at Alice, who was already pacing back and forth on Margo’s Persian rug. ”What’s up? If you were gonna get mad at me for sleeping with your ex, why wait ’til now?”

”This isn’t about _Quentin_.” Alice spat. She was clearly upset, and Margo frowned. 

”Okay… You’re gonna have to walk me through this, sweetheart.”

”Don’t _sweetheart_ me, Margo. It’s Penny.” Alice’s glare was near deadly.

”Penny?” Margo replied slowly, quirking an eyebrow at the angry blonde. 

”Do you think I haven’t noticed you texting him? And how you _mysteriously_ started _studying_ together, as soon as me and Q broke up? As soon as you found out he hooked up with me?” Margo was speechless, as Alice continued; ”So, what the fuck is your problem with me, exactly? Was it not enough to sleep with my boyfriend once? Did you have to try that shit twice?”

”Alice, please.” Margo was still struggling to follow the leaps Alice’s mind had made. It was almost impressive. ”It’s not like that. And besides, I didn’t know the two of you were official.” 

”Oh, shut up.” Alice stopped pacing, ”We both know it’s too soon for both of us. Penny’s still not over Kady getting expelled, and I-”

”And you?”

” _Goddamnit_ , Margo, it’s been a week since you and El _fucked_ my last boyfriend, and you expect me to have a new one?” Alice’s voice had that nasal tone it got when she was near frantic. Margo sighed.

”Alice, listen.” She raised a hand in what she hoped was a calming motion, ”I’m sorry for sleeping with Q. It was shitty. You did nothing to deserve it, and it fucked whatever chance we had at a friendship.”

”You just had to-” Alice looked like she might cry, and Margo wasn’t sure what to do, ”You had to go and ruin my perfect fucking image of you, didn’t you? Queen Margo, high and mighty, not a flaw to be seen- I was- I was fucking _dazzled_ by you, and you just-” 

”Sorry, _what?_ ” Margo’s mind, having struggled to keep up with Alice’s rambling, stopped dead in its tracks. She blinked, trying to make sense of what the _fuck_ was happening.

And then, Alice ran past her out the door, tears now streaming freely down her face.

” _Fuck you,_ Margo.” She exclaimed, slamming the door shut, and Margo was left in complete silence. 


End file.
